Saturday November 12, 1983

 Why Not, Hemlington

Yarm.

Ally sat upstairs while I laboured below with the blind barmaid Margaret McMahon. She is a despicable shit. She is a woman unworthy of being a mother. Busy. We haven't had the mad axeman Clayton in yet but some of his henchmen are here. One is a dwarf in a flat cap who looks like he wouldn't say boo to a goose, but I suppose that's his principal weapon. He has tiny eyes like a pig, which glint over the top of his pint glass. At 3:30 Ally phoned Frank to see if her car insurance has expired. He says not. Bessie was more cheerful. We drove to Yarm and bought a 'moses basket' and stand for £54. It is decorated with 'broderie anglaise' white material and looks very Victorian. It really brings it home to us that a baby is on the way. We carried our new purchase to the car. We spent an hour and £10 buying absolutely nothing in a large store including bottles of the male contraceptive pill (a joke thing, sweets really) for Graham, Peter & John for Christmas. Back at the Why Not a woman phoned to ask when we are leaving. I told her I do not know. A couple arrived with strong London accents who say they are the new masters here having just been appointed by Fran O'Brien. (David) Tyne saw them in London and liked. I showed them over the place. They had been here on Tuesday, incognito, when the electrician was fixing the glass washer. I remember seeing a well-dressed couple who aroused my suspicions. We had a brawl between two youths late on. To bed. We lay talking for ages.

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